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“Like Humpty Dumpty?”

He laughed, too.

“Exactly like that,” he said against my temple.

I looked up and found his eyes. They found me.

He hesitated for two seconds, then kissed me carefully, like he still had a choice about it, and then I felt need tug on him like an undertow.

He pulled me closer, hands kneading my shoulders.

I climbed into his lap. Before he could say no.

It unraveled him enough that he pulled me flush against him, softly insistent, his mouth already on my neck, his breathing ragged as I pushed my hips into his.

Then his hand was at my waist, under the hem of my shirt, his palm warm against my skin.

I wanted him so much I couldn’t think. It gathered at my core and then it was everywhere, pooling at my throat, where his mouth traced a line that left a trail of sparks. His palm was flat against my spine, fingers pressing into my skin.

My hands were in his hair. It smelled like shampoo and salt. When his mouth landed on my chest, my head went back, my body yielding to him.

That gave him the answer he needed, and now his fingers were releasing the first buttons of my pajama top. Every nerve begged him not to stop. When the buttons came loose and he took my nipple in his mouth, I saw stars.

A low noise left his throat. My breathing was a mess. And just when I wanted so much more, just when I wanted everything, he pulled back.

He kissed me on my collarbone, slow and reverent.

“Marlowe,” he said.

“Stopping now is cruel,” I begged.

“I’m not stopping. I’m pausing.”

He rested his forehead against mine.

“Why?”

For a moment neither of us said anything. I could feel his heart going, and the effort in him, the whole weight of what he was holding back.

“Because I love you.”

He said it like it had gotten loose before he’d decided to let it.

I didn’t say it back right away. I wanted to hold it for a second.

“I love you, too,” I whispered.

For a moment that was all there was. Then: “I can’t do this until I can keep you safe from them. Until I’m free,” he said, his hands on my waist, steadying himself against what he’d rather do.

I pulled back enough to look at him. “Is that all it is?”

He thought for a second, politely closing my pajama top. “No.”

“Then what else?”

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me. Things I can’t even say out loud.”

I went still. “Will I ever know?”